


makeshift torch

by emptyswimmingpools



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Season/Series 01, Tumblr Prompt, sort of? the thirst is there at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyswimmingpools/pseuds/emptyswimmingpools
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec has never been good with words, good at telling people how he feels. He meets Magnus, and this proves to be a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	makeshift torch

_But you see, there is_  
_a graveyard in my mouth_  
_filled with words that_  
_have died on my lips._

Alec has always, or for as long as he can remember, had a complicated relationship with words that hold much more meaning than orders and demands have to offer, which are important in the moment but fated to dissolve and fizzle into triviality merely hours later, the importance much alike a dwindling fire destined to be put out. Leading, to him, has become sort of a second nature, almost sort of a solace as it means ensuring the protection of Izzy and Jace and everyone he is fond of, anyone he is inclined to love. He’s not one to admit it, but the sense of control puts him at ease, assuages him.

There are many words that he’s wanted to say so badly, and have reached to touch the tip of his tongue, an inch away from leaving his mouth… But they’ve never done such as been spoken, a bitter sort of aftertaste left behind as he swallows them down, leaving no traces in their absence. Sometimes, rarely, he doesn’t regret this. He knows that sometimes it’s better to leave words unsaid; the mere possibility of him saying them and social disaster striking is enough to scare him into the idea that he is better off being a quiet, reserved person, one who keeps to himself and never thinks twice about leaving his deepest, darkest secrets unlocked.

Built upon a foundation of insecurity, he is. An open book, he is not. There are occasions where he _does_ end up remorseful over cowardly remaining silent. He’d like to vent, confide in someone — someone like Izzy, who’ll listen intently and love him unconditionally, perhaps gingerly offer some advice, too — but he _can’t_ ; he severely lacks in self-confidence, something his siblings appear to have and take pride in. Generally, they’re mostly short sentences, meaningful phrases he’s wanted to say but the moment had been wrong, like ‘I love you’, and even confessions such as ‘I’m gay’ that haven’t had their moment yet.

He doesn’t quite know if he regrets not saying the vast majority of things. He often wonders what would’ve gone differently if he’d have ever told his parents, ‘This pressure you’re putting on me is too much, could you fucking take how I feel into consideration for once?’ Well, with that exact wording, likely a slap; with a more gentle tone of words, however, would he have gotten somewhere? He’ll never know, he supposes. He’ll never know, because he never said so, and he never will.

But it’s fine this way — he can cope, plus it feels safer. Sure, being reticent isn’t exactly the most convenient thing in the world, but he’s far from prepared to do anything else with his internal struggles. In the years to come, perhaps he’ll differ, but Alec is not one to live in the future as opposed to the present, where he has his duties swimming around endlessly in the pool of his mind, which is making him feel an awful lot like he’s drowning at times. It’s extremely overwhelming, but he keeps living like this, until something — or rather some _one_ — happens.

Magnus Bane walks promptly and swiftly into his life, and suddenly, the air begins to feel thin and Alec has trouble breathing (though he forces himself to power through it and appear visibly as casual as he possibly can). He’s everything Alec isn’t and everything Alec wants: Magnus is a rare gem, glistening in the light, attracting the attention of anyone around him, drawing them in like a moth to a flame. He is an eccentric wonder, like a masterpiece painted by someone like Clary, awed at and admired. Alec doesn’t know an awful lot about him, aside from his love for fabulously expensive goods, but there’s something about his persona that feels about as layered as the outfits he wears (spoiler: quite a lot).

The Warlock is bold and filled with innuendos that have Alec biting back a small laugh, but Alec doesn’t quite realise that they’re specifically directed at _him_ until he corrects Jace, and ex nihilo he feels a light blush creeping onto his face and the air getting kicked out of his lungs as he smiles, shrugs aimlessly. He wants to say something back, perhaps a compliment such as ‘I think you’re pretty, too’, but the moment dissipates and Alec is too afraid and embarrassed to do anything more than stand meekly next to his parabatai.

It happens again, more little jokes aimed at Alec, and he doesn’t know what to think, aside from ‘why are _you_ taking an interest in _me_?’ because Alec is clearly far from what someone as glamorous as Magnus would be expected to date. Alec sort of thinks he’s just doing it for the kicks until the demon ‘deceives’ (yes, he knows it’s a shitty excuse) him, and Magnus tells him that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of. Alec wants to beg to differ, wants to tell Magnus that yes, he does, because Lightwoods _aren’t gay_ and are a family of honour, but instead, he plays the naïve card, and he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” and the topic is dropped at Magnus’ reply (which may or may not have sent a shiver or two down Alec’s spine).

He breathes a sigh of relief when he gets back to the Institute, but it’s short-lived because later the next day he receives a call from none other than Magnus, and Alec forgets about Clary and the rest of the world around him as he answers, tells him that a drink date sounds fun — he wasn’t originally intending to say that exactly — but unfortunately has to decline as of this moment, because _shit_ , Clary. In a way, he’s sort of grateful, because he doesn’t trust that if he were at Magnus’ right now he would be able to refrain from saying something he’ll later regret, or do something else stupid like, say, kiss him. (And by the Angel, does Alec want to kiss him, want to feel those soft, plump lips against his own, despite not having known him very long.)

Alec is confused for more than one reason when Jace calls him: the main one being that he’s not sure why Magnus needs him of all people, when both Jace and Clary are there. He’s in a haze of anger at his parents for wanting to essentially pimp him out for their own selfish goods, and his judgement is clouded when he eventually decides to, for the first time in forever, go against their wishes. He walks quickly to Magnus’ place, mind still slightly conflicted but his intentions pure, nerves slightly overwhelming as he’s not quite sure what to expect to walk in on when he arrives at the well-decorated loft, or _lair_ , as Magnus himself had referred to it as.

The scene is hectic: Luke is lying down in a struggle, clearly in grave pain; Clary is frantically dashing around the potion area, trying to put everything together as quickly as possible without Jace and _the Mundane_ ; Magnus looks like he’s about to pass out as he hovers his hands over the dying wolf, effectively saving him, though he appears weak. Alec rushes over to his side. “Help me,” Magnus says, voice weary, “I need your strength.” Alec’s heart thuds as loud as thunder inside his chest, hard enough so he feels it might burst.

His reply is firm and resolute, “Take what you need.” They share a glance and interlock their hands, and every fibre of Alec’s being feels like it’s on fire, but it’s oddly pleasant, if anything. Magnus’ magic is a makeshift torch seeping from his warm hands that has somehow illuminated a bead of hope deep inside the midst of darkness in Alec’s head — one he had sort of forgotten was here, as he hadn’t touched upon it in what felt like an eternity, but what must’ve been the duration of several years, perhaps three or four. It’s a feeling he doesn’t know if he welcomes with ease just yet, but his stomach feels fluttery and he knows that’s a side effect of Magnus alone, not them sharing energy.

When it’s over, and Luke is OK and isn’t reliant upon Magnus to stay alive, Alec wants to tell him ‘thank you’ for rekindling that hope, for letting him know it’s all right, for actually seeming to like him. He wants to get to know Magnus, he thinks. He’s been alive centuries and must have wonderful stories of the like to share, and Alec is so, so interested but even more reluctant to reciprocate, because he still doesn’t like talking and has an incessant desire to keep himself guarded, and Magnus doesn’t (yet) fall as an exception in that matter. Inevitably, he keeps his mouth shut, and begins to work on cleaning all Luke’s blood out of Magnus’ couch.

They converse for a while, and Alec is offered a drink from him. He accepts, and despite finding it much too bitter for his liking (Alec won’t admit it, but he has a bit of a sweet tooth), he sips noncommittally every few minutes, even agreeing to stay for another one, which eventually turns into another three, and Alec is far too drunk and tired to safely get home, so Magnus offers to let him stay the night. Even in his current state, he is hesitant and restrained, and he’s still sort of worried he’ll say something wrong, but seeing the generous smile on Magnus’ face makes it devastatingly impossible to just ask to be portalled back and decline.

Alec is scared. Petrified, even. He’s scared of how he feels — formidably crushing on Magnus. Magnus, who his parents have a rocky history with. Magnus, an Angel-knows-how-old Warlock. Magnus, who is utterly a world away from Alec in terms of how he acts, thinks, dresses. Magnus, in all his kindness and his soft smiles and his extraordinary magical abilities. A Downworlder, and a _male_ one at that. _Angel_ , his parents would be so disappointed if they knew.

Being surrounded by the unfamiliarity of Magnus’ loft is oddly comforting, and Alec thinks it’s because it’s far less stressful than having to keep up the act around his parents — the one where he’s the token son, loyal and willing to do anything and everything just to erase any family mistakes that aren’t even his own. It’s strange: Alec has only known Magnus for the greater part of a few days, yet still feels more _himself_ around him than he likely ever will around his parents. Sure, he’s mainly all stutters and rambles when he’s around the older man — how could he not be? — but that doesn’t alter the sense of welcome Magnus brings to him. He’s pleasant and sophisticated and it’s sort of ruining Alec’s life, which might be a little melodramatic as of right now, but he can’t bring himself to pay any mind.

Alec doesn’t particularly like Clary. He doesn’t like the fact that she ruined his sense of control in the Shadow World, he doesn’t like what she represents. There’s a part of him — a bitter, jealous, ugly part of him at that — that doesn’t like her simply because she has Jace wrapped around her finger, too, albeit he’d never come close to admitting that (but he’s almost entirely certain both Izzy and Clary herself have figured it out). But he does have to thank her, he thinks, for drawing him and Magnus together. Yeah, he really owes her one there.

He wonders how things would be different if he’d have been able to tell Magnus that he felt — _feels_ — the same, that Magnus also unlocked something in Alec, something glowing and unfamiliar and lovely all at once, something that is making him endlessly intrigued. He still can, technically — he has all of tomorrow morning to spend with him, after all — but he likely won’t, because he’s sort of overcome by fear of fucking up life not only for himself, but for his family. It’s too much of a risk, and Alec likes to keep it safe when he can (which might just be the biggest irony ever, because his job is literally to _kill demons_ ).

It’s getting late, Alec realises, and sleep is probably his best option if he doesn’t want to wake up even more ticked off than usual, but the overcrowded sensation of _Magnus_ floating around rapidly in his mind refuses to turn itself off and let the Shadowhunter relax. Alec sighs to himself, shifts slowly to try and find a more comfortable position. He eventually falls asleep to the thought of glitter and cat eyes — his makeshift torch, the anomaly he had always needed but never known.

**Author's Note:**

> title: [a car, a torch, a death](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOE2SxPXb9w)  
> beginning quote: [i don't want to be quiet anymore](http://starredsoul.tumblr.com/post/62687431283/i-have-existed-in-silence-for-an-eternity-a)  
> my tumblr: [albertorosedne](https://albertorosedne.tumblr.com)  
> i meant to upload this yesterday, but then eurovision (!!!) happened, so what can ya do, eh? i was going to do, like, the whole season, but then got lazy and thought e6/7 was a good place to end it. :) this was initially written for the prompt "malec + unspoken words", but i might've gone off on a tangent on that front. also, apparently, i have a thing for canon compliants. sue me. for real, though, i had fun writing this, and i hope you enjoyed reading. feedback is appreciated!


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